Richard.
It's telling on me too. The fact is, any poor devil of a mountebank is a king compared to one of us. He does his trick and gets his pay.--Oh, this last fortnight! If you'd seen me driven about from village to village like a travelling quack! Freedom and hot words, free beer and hot sausages! And, to cap the climax, a fellow who used to be my private secretary leading the campaign against me! Bah--it was horrible. As for Michael, with his Olympian calm, he saw only the humorous side of it. (Laughing.)
Beata.
I wonder he let you leave before the election.
Richard.
He thought I ought not to make myself too cheap. I quite agreed with him, and took myself off. Hang the democracy!
Beata.
If only the noblemen who want to rule could get on without it!
Richard.
They could, if the spirit of the age hadn't turned them into demagogues.